


Flames of the Past

by The_Disaster_Tiefling



Series: Tales of the Flame [3]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Childhood Memories, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fire, Guilt, Human Sacrifice, M/M, Magic, Magic-Users, Memories, Past, Past Character Death, Protectiveness, Sacrifice, Secrets, Survivor Guilt, Trauma, Truth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-04-24 14:48:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14357700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Disaster_Tiefling/pseuds/The_Disaster_Tiefling
Summary: '“I trust you,” Caleb cuts him off, still holding his gaze, and this time it isn’t a faint spark but a burning ember and Molly’s voice catches in his throat. It’s been implicit in the way Caleb has come to rely on him, opening to him in ways that he doesn’t around the others, but there’s something about hearing it put into words and seeing it so openly in his partner’s face. 'After another fight nearly ends in disaster when Caleb is caught up in his memories, they all know that something has to change before it's too late. However, Molly is reluctant to push, until Caleb pushes for him, asking him to do one of the few things he had promised never to do - to use Devil's tongue to draw out the events that he has never spoken of.





	1. Chapter 1

 

  Mollymauk’s steps were slow and heavy as he headed for the room that he was sharing Caleb, exhaustion lying heavy across his shoulders, combined with the throbbing pain in his side. Jester had managed to heal the worst of the damage, enough so he wouldn’t succumb overnight, but not enough to remove the burning ache in his side. It was almost tempting to keep going, to walk past the closed door and head for Fjord’s room, not sure that he was ready for the conversation ahead. Certain that Caleb wasn’t. However, it was a passing temptation, easily buried beneath the need to see that the wizard was still with him, that they had both come back alive. Still, he hesitated when he reached the door, taking a deep breath as he tried to settle his own darting thoughts and stormy emotions before he tried to confront his partner’s.

    It wasn’t easy, because all that he could see now that he had allowed himself to stop was the wizard standing there in the middle of the fight, expression blank and eyes caught on some distant point, his mind caught up in a past that none of them knew about as death had roared towards him. It had been close. Too close. If he had been half a second later… if Yasha hadn’t been close on his heels to haul them both to safety, if Nott hadn’t dragged Caleb away from the fight….there were too many things that could have gone wrong, too much that could have been lost and his hand trembled as he pressed it to his side, bearing down on the ache, needing the pain to ground himself in the present. To remind himself that he was alive and here, and that on the other side of the door was Caleb who had fled up here the moment they had returned to the tavern.

    He’d wanted to follow straight away, fully aware of how easy it was for Caleb to get caught up in his own thoughts, especially when the memories that haunted him were simmering just beneath the surface. However, the others had held him back, and he scowled as he glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the stairs, tail lashing behind him. He could understand why they’d held him back and why they were worried about had happened, he understood that Caleb’s slips into the past had endangered them before, but not to this level…not to the point where they were all lucky to have got out of there alive, to the point where Molly had come the closest to dying because he hadn’t thought twice about throwing himself between Caleb and the blow that would have torn the wizard asunder. However, that wasn’t why he was up here, because as much as it terrified him that some distant event might one day manage to steal Caleb away from him, or might drag them all into trouble they couldn’t escape, this was Caleb…his Caleb, and right now he needed to see him, touch him and reassure himself that he was still here.

    He knocked softly, never willing to risk scaring Caleb but unsurprised when there was no reply from within the room and he reached for the handle, half-surprised when it turned easily. It wouldn’t have been a shock if Caleb had decided to try and lock out the world after everything had happened, after all it wouldn’t be the first time. Still, he wasn’t going to complain as he hastily slid inside, closing the door softly behind him and making sure to lock it behind him, because neither of them need interruptions tonight, even if the rest of the Nein would only be trying to help. He takes longer than necessary to make sure its locked, before slowly turning and looking towards the bed, the silence making him uneasy and his heart immediately goes out to Caleb as he spies the wizard huddled in the middle of the bed.

“Caleb,” Molly’s heart ached as his wizard tensed and hunched further in on himself. Caleb hadn’t bothered to undress in the slightest and Molly swallowed as he caught a glimpse of his own blood staining the material, certain that couldn’t be helping Caleb’s state of mind. However, getting him out of it would have to wait, because there had been no response to the quiet murmur of his name, not even a blink, and no sign that he was even aware that Molly had entered the room. “Sweetheart?” His voice is just as soft as it was before, but its like he’s cracked a whip in mid-air because Caleb jolts upright, head coming up, fear written across his face. Terror that doesn’t abate even when haunted blue eyes meet his gaze, recognition dawning after a moment and Molly mutters a curse under his breath. Cursing the past that haunts Caleb and won’t let him go, cursing himself for letting the wizard retreat on his own and cursing the rest of the Nein for holding him back, and then he buries the anger beneath a terse smile as he steps forward, because the last thing Caleb needs his anger.

“Molly…” At least Caleb has recognised him, and he’s aware enough to speak, although the weak, tendril of his voice is nearly lost in the sound of Molly’s footsteps as he approaches the bed and Molly catches the way his eyes flicker down to the tattered coat, and the bandages peeking through. He doesn’t try to hide it, even though he wants to, instead he closes the last of the distance between them, settling himself on the edge of the bed and reaching out, letting his hand come to rest next to Caleb, not quite touching, not just yet.

“Caleb.” Soft. Gentle, because Caleb sounds a little to close the fragile glass version of himself who’d fallen apart when he’d thought that he’d lost Molly. Although he had at least made sure that Caleb was fully aware of the fact that Molly was mainly healed and that he was going to be fine, before letting the wizard slip away, keen to avoid a repeat of that incident. “Home of my heart.” That gets a reaction, wild eyes flicking to his face before darting away and Caleb’s voice is louder this time, ragged with too many emotions just beneath the surface.

“Don’t…”

“Why not?”

“I h-hurt you…” Caleb’s gaze flickers to him again, carefully avoiding his gaze and fixating on his side and Molly catches the tremor that works its way through Caleb, even as his mind is struggling to grasp what he’d just said.

“What?” It comes out as a strangled squawk, far louder than he’d intended and Caleb flinches and tries to curl away from him and Molly knows that if he lets him go, then he’ll lose him for good. “No, sweetheart, no…” _No, no, no…._ He leans forwards in a rush, managing to grasp Caleb’s hand just before the wizard pulls out of reach and Moonweaver, he’s trembling, maybe they both are, because Molly had known that Caleb was going to be on edge after today, but this is worse than he’d imagined and for once he’s not sure how to fix it.

Because Caleb hadn’t hurt him…

Hell, he doubted that the wizard even at his most broken would ever hurt him.

But…

_He’s going to get one us killed if this continues. He almost got you killed today._ Beau’s urgent words from barely ten minutes ago echo in his mind and he hate them, almost as much as he hates the lingering echo of _‘empty’_ that has never fully faded, because he can’t argue against either of them. Yet, he’s never once blamed Caleb for getting caught up in his past, and he doubts that he could, even if it results in him getting hurt or worse again in the future…and there’s no way he can ignore that broken whisper, or the way that Caleb is shaking and trying to pull free of him.

“No,” he repeats, taking a deep breath and tightening his hold, refusing to let Caleb slip through his grasp. It’s a fight, Caleb who usually bows far easier, is fighting like a wild animal that has been backed into a corner, but Molly has far more to fight for and he’s firm but gentle as he pulls the struggling wizard down against himself. “You didn’t hurt me, Caleb.” He hides the wince when a flailing elbow catches his side, nearly making a liar of him as it reminds him that he’s still healing, lightning flashes of pain dancing up his side. “This wasn’t your fault.” The flicker of anger is a familiar feeling, as is the longing to know more. To know who had hurt Caleb so badly, who had given him memories that could consume him against his will and who had left him fearing that those around him, those who loved him, would turn away the moment something went wrong.

One day he would ask, and maybe one day Caleb would be ready to tell him.

     For now, he buried those desires beneath the need to comfort and reassure, pulling Caleb closer and wrapping both arms around him, pressing a kiss to the closest temple as with a noise that was halfway between a sob, and a whine of frustration Caleb sank against him. “None of this is your fault,” he murmured again, punctuating each word with a small kiss, wishing that it was easy to press the words into Caleb’s skin until he accepted them.

“But…”

“No,” Molly knows better than to let him continue, than to let the thought take hold, because Caleb can rival them all for stubbornness when he gets an idea in his head, particularly when it’s a bad one like this one. “No, buts…”

    Caleb seems to subside a little at that, curling against him, although he’s careful to avoid the Tiefling’s injured side and that care is reassuring, because it means that he’s here in the present. Molly isn’t naïve enough to think that’s the end of it, but he seizes the opportunity to hold Caleb close, turning his head so that he can bury his lips in the wayward hair and lose himself in the warm contact of their bodies pressed together. He’d nearly lost all this. He’d nearly lost Caleb, and as that fight months ago had proven that was something that would destroy him more surely than any physical wound could. “As long as you’re here…” The words slip out, unintentional and more raw and honest than anything else he could’ve said, and he feels Caleb tense for a moment, before slowly a trembling hand settles over his, squeezing lightly.

“I-I’m here.” It’s not as firm or reassuring as he’s sure that Caleb meant it to be, but it warms Molly to hear him trying and he smiles, kissing him again, and turning his hand so that he can twine their fingers together.

“Yes, you are.”

_And I’m going to make sure it stays that way._

**

     They remain like that for some time, just holding each other and drinking in the reassurance of having the other there. At one point they hear the others coming upstairs, Caleb tensing for a moment as someone halts for a moment outside the door and Molly whispers a prayer that the rest of the Nein will know better than to try and disturb them right now. Thankfully, someone seems to be listening to him for once, because there’s a stage-whisper that could only come from Jester and the feet move onwards, and it’s not long before it grows quiet again apart from some distant muffled thumps, which Molly suspects is Jester’s attempt at keeping Nott distracted. It takes Caleb a while to relax again, and Molly has a feeling that the wizard is worrying about Nott and blaming himself for worrying her …again… and he opens his mouth, ready to dispel those thoughts if he can, before cutting himself off.

   Perhaps it’s selfish, but tonight he wants it to just be the two of them. Because as much as everything that happened to them affected the rest of the group, they were the ones most affected, they were the ones who could have lost everything. And he’s the one with Caleb curling close once more, his trembling slowly easing away until he’s slumped against Molly’s side, breathing easing out as he turns to hide his face against Molly’s shoulder.

_Mine._

     Just for tonight he’s going to be selfish, everything else can wait till later. _Later._ He lets his head come to rest against Caleb’s, closing his eyes as he listens to the steady rhythm of his partner’s breathing. _In, Out. Here, Alive._ It settles an itch that has been there since he’d first seen Caleb still in the middle of the fight, the light in the blue eyes fading even as the flames that had just consumed one of the imps had faded to embers. _In, out. Here, Alive._ He could stay like this forever, he thinks, and for a moment the thought floors him because there had been a time, not that long ago, when he’d been consumed by the need to keep moving. To keep living, by never stopping. It takes his breath away to realise just how much has changed, how much he has changed, just because of the world-weary wizard in his arms.

_In, out. Here, Alive._

     He wonders if Caleb knows just how much power he has over him, but promptly dismisses the thought with a bitter twist of his lips. Of course, he doesn’t. It would never occur to Caleb that he had that kind of power, not when he couldn’t see how much Molly cared, or why the Tiefling would go far to keep him safe. It’s something that he hopes one day to be able to prove to Caleb, if only once, but he has a feeling that it will be a long time coming, if ever. _One day,_ he promises as he presses a kiss to his wizard’s head, knowing that he will wait as long as it takes. No longer. Smiling when Caleb seems to lean into the touch, even though the pattern of his breathing doesn’t shift.

_One day._

    Molly remains like that for a few minutes more, comfortable and content to remain as they are, but its not long before he can feel himself beginning to drift, lulled by the soothing melody of Caleb’s breathing. _In, out. Here, Alive._ As tempting as it is just to let himself drift off whilst they’re like this, he knows that the position won’t do either of them any good and reluctantly he lifts his head, blinking sleepily. He’s sure that Caleb’s long gone by now, and he’s not sure how he’s going to get them both ready and into bed without waking the wizard, or without tugging on his own injuries, but he knows that he needs to try, reluctantly beginning to straighten when Caleb suddenly breaks the silence.

 “Molly…”

“Yes?” Molly is amazed that it doesn’t come out as a squeak, because he’d honestly thought that Caleb was asleep, and he takes a deep breath, feeling his heart racing and readying to scold Caleb for giving him a fright, when Caleb’s next words silence him.

“I want you to use Devil’s Tongue on me…” Caleb’s voice had barely been above a whisper, and yet it felt as though he had shouted them and Molly’s not sure which of them flinches, probably both and it takes him a minute to gather his scrambled thoughts.

“Caleb…” He’s not even sure what he wants to say for once, and he subsides, arms tight around Caleb once more. It’s not a request he had ever imagined hearing, especially as he’d promised long ago that he would never use that ability against Caleb. The wizard had never asked for the promise, but Molly had given it anyway, as a sign that he recognised the boundaries around Caleb’s secrets and that he respected them.

“Please.”

“Why?” It’s not what he meant to say, a refusal dancing on the tip of his tongue, because he doesn’t want that kind of power over Caleb. He’s never wanted that kind of power over him. However, there’s something about the quiet plea that tugs at him, and he doesn’t fight when Caleb shifts, pulling away, although he makes sure that he still has hold of his hand, refusing to relinquish the contact entirely. Caleb is pale, exhaustion written into every line on his face, but there is no trace of sleep in the blue eyes that meet and hold his gaze, hard with a resolve that Molly rarely sees from the wizard.

“I…We can’t…” Caleb trails off, frustration written across his face. Words, which are his forte, always seem to fail him when emotions are involved, and Molly has become adept at understanding him without them, but today he needs the words, so all he can do is squeeze the fingers tangled with his and wait patiently as Caleb takes one deep breath and then another. “T-today can’t happen again…” It’s something that Molly wholeheartedly wants to agree with, not sure he could endure coming so close to losing Caleb again, but he also knows that it’s something that can’t be prevented. The past can’t be changed, the events that marked Caleb are already over and done with and all they can do is try and prepare for the next fallout.

“No one can promise that, Sweetheart.” He’s careful in his choice of words, sharing the burden with everyone, because Caleb takes too much to heart as it is.

“I know,” Caleb whispers, bitterness and something darker twisted into his voice and his gaze falls, settling on their entwined hands for a moment before he swallows. “I know…but…I…if you knew what had happened to me…”

   Molly’s breath catches in his throat, and for a moment he’s caught in a storm of disbelief and anticipation as he realises what Caleb is implying. The past that he’s only caught glimpses of, the secrets that have given him more sleepless nights than he cares to admit, the answers to the questions of who has hurt his partner…Caleb is offering them to him on a silver plate. He wants it. He wants to understand, to know, if only to be there for Caleb when the memories rear their heads again, but…

“You don’t have to,” he murmurs, soft and sincere all at once as the anticipation fades in the wake of the realisation of what that would mean for Caleb. It doesn’t take much imagination to know that whatever had happened to Caleb before was bad, you didn’t end up that haunted without going through hell, as Molly knew all too well. Just as he knows that talking about it, especially under the influence of a spell can rake it all up and then some, and as much as he might want to know the truth, he doesn’t want Caleb to endure that. “I don’t need to know.”

“You want to.” It’s not an accusation, it’s just a simple statement of fact and Molly can’t find the words to deny it. It earns him a fleeting smile, that’s not really a smile because there’s too much pain behind it and Molly can’t stand it, tugging on the linked hands, using surprise to pull Caleb back into his side and holding him close.

“If you want to tell me anything, then I’m all ears,” he murmurs, dropping a kiss to Caleb’s forehead, not sure which of them he is trying to comfort at the moment. “But I won’t push, and using Devil’s tongue…”

“Please…”

“Why?” Molly asks again, making the question firmer this time, refusing to go further without an explanation because the thought of breaking his promise and using that power on Caleb, even if it is with his permission, shakes him to his core. “Why would you want me to use that?” Doesn’t he realise that he won’t be able to stop? That he will be inclined to say more than he wants to say? That he might reveal things that he wants to keep hidden? There’s a nagging at the edge of his thoughts, a suspicion bubbling up in the wake of his thoughts.

“I need…” Caleb whispers, before shaking his head, fingers biting into Molly’s as he struggles to ground himself and find the right words. “No, I w-want to tell you.” Blue eyes flicker to his, meeting and holding his gaze for a moment, letting him see the truth in those words before drifting away again as he adds softly. “But, I’m afraid…”

    There’s no triumph in being proven right, his suspicion becoming certainty with that confession and Molly closes his eyes. _No._ It’s what he wants to say, what he should say, but beneath the fear and uncertainty he had seen another emotion. It had been just a flicker, a faint spark lost in the dulled starlight of Caleb’s eyes, but it had been there. _Trust._ Caleb trusted him to do this, to use his power and crack him open, to bare the truth of his past to the cold light of day. “Do you know what you’re asking?”

“Ja…” Caleb meets his gaze again, the resolve from earlier reappearing stronger than ever, although its ruined when his voice wavers again. “I w-want to tell you. I want you to know, and this is the only way.”

“You know that it might compel you to say more than…”

“I trust you,” Caleb cuts him off, still holding his gaze, and this time it isn’t a faint spark but a burning ember and Molly’s voice catches in his throat. It’s been implicit in the way Caleb has come to rely on him, opening to him in ways that he doesn’t around the others, but there’s something about hearing it put into words and seeing it so openly in his partner’s face. “Please…Molly.” He should say no, it’s a dangerous power at the best of times even if it has saved their skins more than once, and when combined with a past like Caleb’s it’s even more so. But, Caleb is watching him, willing to trust him with the most vulnerable part of himself and Molly is weak, and Caleb is his biggest weakness and he finds himself nodding, closing his eyes as he whispers.

“All right…”


	2. Chapter 2

_“All right…”_

     The whispered agreement hung between them for a moment, and Molly has never been good at silence, so he breaks quickly, opening his eyes to find that Caleb is staring at him, relief written across his face. He shouldn’t look like that, not with what Molly’s just agreed to and he wants to take the words back, to make Caleb realise what a bad idea this is. He doesn’t though, because Caleb is whispering again and when he manages to focus, its to realise that it’s a mantra of ‘thank yous’ and his name and his breath catches at the words. “Don’t thank me…” _Please…_ It’s a skill he’s used time and time again, but it’s always left an unpleasant taste in his mouth and the thought of doing this is a thousand times worse, but if it’s what Caleb needs…

“If we’re doing this, then we’re doing it my way,” he adds after taking a deep breath to gather himself, and Caleb stiffens, suddenly wary in a way that he hasn’t been with Molly for a while and it hurts to see especially after the relief. However, there is no way Molly is going to back down on this, because there is too much potential for him to make things worse, to break Caleb and there’s no way he will risk that.

“What do you mean?”

“Firstly. We’re going to get you out of those filthy clothes and cleaned up.” It’s buying him time too, but Molly just wants to peel away the evidence of how close the battle had been and it doesn’t look like he’s going to get much of a fight over that, because Caleb glances down at his words and blanches as he realises that he’s still covered in Molly’s blood, a shaky breath escaping as he nods his agreement. There are other terms, but seeing Caleb taking another shaky breath he decides they can wait as he slips off the bed and straightens, wincing as the movement jostles his side and swallowing back a curse as Caleb catches the movement and looks away with guilty eyes. “Come on,” Molly orders softly, holding out a hand. “I’m going to need your help.” He hates admitting it, worried about how much its going to add to the blame that Caleb is trying to heap on himself, but he doubts that he can manage alone, and he needs this time together, to reassure him that what’s coming next isn’t going to ruin anything.

     The guilt doesn’t fade, but Caleb nods and sits up and pushes himself upright, ignoring the offered hand and Molly would be offended were it not for the way blue eyes darted to his side. Then Caleb is there, reaching for him with worried hands, trying to help, eyes resolutely fixed on anything but Molly’s face and the Tiefling sighs before reaching out to capture Caleb’s face in his hands. He’s gentle as he tilts Caleb’s face upwards until he can see it clearly, expression softening even with the worry and dread pooling beneath the surface, and he brushes a finger over dirty skin. “I love you.” It’s important that he knows, that the words are pressed into Caleb’s skin before anything happens, before they risk everything they’ve become. He remembers how there had been a time when Caleb had fled whenever he had tried to utter those words, how he would flinch from them, hunching in himself as though expecting them to hurt. He flinches now, in a way that he hasn’t for a long time, but he doesn’t pull away and there is longing and a glimpse of something more beneath the guilt, when he slowly meets Molly’s gaze.

“I k-know.” _I don’t understand why,_ the words aren’t spoken aloud, but Molly had heard them enough times to feel them in the momentary silence and he hates it. He hates that even now Caleb can’t see what he sees, and he wishes there was a way for him to permanently imprint the words so that Caleb can never forget, or that he could say them in a way that would tear through whatever is stopping the human from believing him. “I…” Caleb falters for a moment, longing and guilt twisting his expression his expression before he closes his eyes. “I love you too…Mollymauk Tealeaf.”  Molly’s full name, Caleb’s way of making sure he remembers who he is and a reminder that he is more than enough for Caleb, and it draws a strangled laugh from Molly’s lips. _We’re both a mess…_

    They remain like that for a moment, before Molly leans in to steal a quick kiss, just a chaste meeting of lips before pulling back. “Let’s get cleaned up.” He doesn’t want to move, he doesn’t want to lose this closeness…doesn’t want to move towards the promise that he’s made, the words he should never have said. Caleb looks just as reluctant, but he follows his lead, moving to support him, touching him with gentle fingers as though he might shatter at any moment, and he feels like he might under that tender touch and concerned expression.

    It takes longer than necessary to get them both cleaned up. They need the time and the contact, and not just because of Molly’s injuries, although he would be lying if he didn’t exaggerate it a little, trying to lose himself in Caleb’s ministrations as the wizard pays careful attention to his side. It’s a reminder that he’s alive, and that they’re still together. He returns the favour, making sure to let his touch linger, fingers mapping Caleb’s face and chest, the scars that he has never heard the story behind, the constellations of freckles that only he gets to be privy too. The gentle worship telling Caleb more convincingly than words ever could that he’s forgiven, and there’s reluctance on both sides when they pull away, pulling on lose-fitting nightclothes as the silence curls around them, the tension they had both been ignoring rises between them.

“Come here.” Molly doesn’t want to do this, he doesn’t want to take charge, but he had agreed and there’s something in Caleb’s expression that tells him that he needs this…no matter how it might end, and so he settles himself on the bed and holds out a hand towards Caleb. If his fingers tremble then Caleb is too kind to comment, or maybe to caught up in his own mind, and he settles a little when warm fingers curl around his without any hesitation. There’s trust in the gesture, and he swallows before pulling the wizard to the bed, guiding him down onto the bed, making a soft noise of protest when Caleb tries to sit beside him and put some distance between them. Instead he tugs until Caleb follows, guiding him to curl up against him, resting in his lap with Molly’s arms around him, his head resting on his shoulder.

“Molly?”

“This is my second condition.” Caleb stiffens at his words but makes no effort to pull away and Molly takes that as a sign that it’s safe to continue. “I want…need…you close if we’re doing this, and…” His fingers curl against Caleb’s side, carefully avoiding the ticklish spot he’d discovered by accident months ago and he can feel his partner leaning into the light touch. “I think you need it too.”

“Ja…” It’s shaky, but it’s truthful and Molly rewards him with light butterfly kisses against his shoulder, wishing that they could just remain like this. Close. Together. Peaceful. However, he can feel Caleb tensing again, and he sighs before pulling away a little, fingers stroking over pale skin.

“The last condition is that when you’re under my…” _Control. Charm._ He doesn’t want to give voice to what he’s about to Caleb, and he swallows, focusing his gaze on the tiny constellation of freckles that are just peeking out from under the collar of the nightshirt, using it to ground himself. “When you’re under. I’m going to give you one extra order.”

“What?”

“That if it’s too much and if you need to stop, that you will tell me.”

“You could just ask me…” Caleb pointed out with a frown, tilting his head to look at Molly, who sighed and shook his head.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, kissing Caleb’s cheek to take the sting out of his next words. “Even with the charm loosening your tongue, I know you.” _Do I though?_ The thought slipped in, cold and bitter, twisting under his skin. He had always wondered about Caleb’s past, about what had put the shadows in the blue he loved so much…but he had feared it to, not wanting to change how he saw the wizard. He shook his head, refusing to let the doubts take hold. If Caleb could look at him, and take him as he was, as new and uncertain as he was, then how could he do any less? “I know you would push yourself, that you will keep going until you break.” He can see the protest brewing, the storm in the blue eyes and he knows that Caleb isn’t disagreeing with his words but trying to argue against having that escape route and he cuts him off with another kiss, this time on the lips, warm and gentle. “Let me have this,” he whispers into it, and he feels the fight draining from Caleb even before the wizard pulls away with a tight nod.

“All right…”

*

      They shift for a few moments until they’re as comfortable as they’re going to get, and Molly wishes that they had longer, his heart in his mouth at the thought of what he’s going to do, and he doesn’t miss the shudder that goes through Caleb as they still, the tension winding tight enough to steal their breath. “We can stop,” he whispers, a plea and a prayer in his words.

“N-no!” It’s almost a shout and Caleb flinches back, colour spreading across both cheeks as his gaze turns to his lap, his fingers tangling in the material of Molly’s shirt. “I need to d-do this. I want to do this,” his accent is thicker than normal, betraying his fear, but there’s resolve beneath the words. A steel that Molly has only witness a handful of times, and one that he knows won’t yield without a fight. “Molly…”

“What is it?”

“I…I’m sorry.” Molly frowns, making a confused noise and Caleb sighs, the hand not tangled in Molly’s shirt seeking one of the hands lying against his stomach and tangling their fingers together. “For this...I- I shouldn’t have asked this of you.”

“It is what it is,” Molly murmured, wishing desperately that Caleb hadn’t asked him. “And the fact that you do trust me enough to ask…” _It means the world._ He doesn’t want to do this by a long shot, hell, he would give anything to be doing anything but this and yet he can’t deny the fact that he had still wondered if Caleb truly trusted him, even with as far as they had come. He had his answer now, just in the worst way possible. Caleb seems to relax at his words, before tense again, and there’s no way for Molly to miss the way the fingers holding his tremble violently.

“Please….” Caleb’s voice is little more than a whisper now, nearly lost despite their closeness and he shudders again, trembling as he tries to force the words out. “Don’t….” His voice cracks and fades to nothingness, but Molly knows what he wants to say even without the words and he shakes his head, desperation making his voice louder than he intended.

“I won’t.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” There’s bitterness and fear, and Molly’s heart twists at the sound of it, but he knows that all the reassurances in the world won’t help right now and so he bites back the words, dropping a kiss to the constellation of freckles and starts to reach for his power. It surges, as eager and hungry as ever to reach out and bend others to his will, and he bites his lip, hard enough to draw blood as he reigns it in long enough to ask.

“Are you ready?”

     As much as he had hoped that Caleb would refuse, he was unsurprised when the head resting against his chest moves in the tiniest of nods and his breath catches. _Please, don’t let this be a mistake,_ he prays to the Moonweaver before closing his eyes, releasing his breath in a shaky exhale before letting go of his power. At once it surges forward, wrapping around the wizard in his arms and he can feel Caleb shudder and tense, his own magic no doubt encouraging him to fight it, and as tempting as it is to let it happen he forces himself to lean forward, mouth beside Caleb’s ear.

“Caleb.” The magic knows, and it deepens his voice, turning it into a seductive purr despite his reservations, and he can feel the charm wrapping tighter and tighter. “Are you listening to me?” Caleb nods, head lolling towards him, blue eyes seeking out crimson, alert enough to tell him that the charm doesn’t have a full hold on him yet and hating himself, Molly pushes more power into the charm. “Sweetheart, I want you to talk to me.” Caleb nods again, easier this time and there’s a haze settling over his features, some of the tension easier out of him and Molly takes a deep breath, nuzzling against him. “I want you to tell me about your past, about what makes you fear fire so much, but…but if it gets too much, if you need to stop or want a break, you have to tell me. This is more important than telling me about the fire, do you understand?”

“Yes…” The soft, almost dreamy voice tells him all that he needs to know, and he feels sick to his stomach. He’s never used this charm to this level before, normally suggestion is enough, and even if it’s what Caleb had asked it doesn’t stop him from feeling like a monster. And it takes him a few minutes to compose himself enough to prompt Caleb.

“Start from the beginning, sweetheart…”

“I-I was five…” Caleb’s voice is stronger and steadier than he expected when he begins, but there’s no comfort in that fact, because Molly has a feeling that this is the easiest part…that this isn’t the part that scarred his partner’s soul.

_He was five when the flames first appeared. He had been arguing with his older brother about who got to eat the last dumpling – a stupid, silly argument that he had never been able to forget – and his temper had got the better of him, and even as his mother had told them to behave he had lashed out. It wasn’t the first time they had exchanged blows, although Caleb, two years younger than Callum had usually come of worse and he was already bracing himself for the retaliation to come when there was a flicker and a flash as his fingers made contact with skin. Callum shrieked in pain, a terrible smell filling the air between them as Caleb fell back with a frightened cry of his own, eyes wide as he watched the sparks that danced between them._

_Fire._

_Magic._

_His mother had raised them with stories of magic, but they had never seen it before and as he stared at the flames that still flickered on the tips of his fingers without causing him pain, and the raw burn on his brother’s arm, he wished that he had never seen it. Their mother was there now, fluttering around Callum, her frantic voice washing over Caleb like a wave as he stared at the flames, wanting them to disappear, missing the expression that flickered over her face as she took in what was happening._

_“Caleb did it!” Callum was shouting now, tears streaking down his face, expression contorted with pain and fear as he looked at his little brother and something twisted and broke in Caleb’s chest. They always squabbled and fought, but at the end of the day they were best friends, curling together to listen to their bedtime story, exploring the woods together and fighting make believe enemies, and not once had he seen his brother look at him like that. It hurt, and he sniffled before backing away, shaking his head, apologies falling from his lips, but Callum was having none of it, pointing at him with his uninjured arm. “He did it! He burnt me!”_

_“I-I’m sorry…” Caleb whispered, knowing that it wasn’t enough, that he couldn’t hide from the flames that still danced on his fingers and his breath caught in his throat as something darker entered his brother’s eyes. It was too much. He curled his fingers into a fist, feeling the flames dancing against his palm, still not burning him and with a fractured sob he turned and fled the small cottage, that just that morning had been his sanctuary._

“He wouldn’t come near me after that.” There were tears on Caleb’s face, although his tone remained even, and Molly’s fingers shook as he reached up to brush them away. “And I couldn’t blame him…I hurt him, scarred him and he never forgot that.   “But everyone else…” He trailed off and when Molly leant forward to glimpse his face, he could see that the blue was fixated on some distant point that only he could see, on a childhood that had been changed by an accident. And Molly hated himself as he gently nudged him, prompting him when Caleb hummed in acknowledgement.

“Everyone else?”

“Magic…was rare where I lived,” Caleb whispered. “It was seen as a b-blessing.” His voice cracked and wavered, the pain undimmed by the charm prompting him to keep going, to give voice to the story he had never shared with anyone, not even Nott.

_He’d spent three days in the woods before they’d found him, although not for lack of effort on their part as he’d lost count of how many times they had nearly stumbled over him. But he was a Widogast, he belonged in the woods and the trees themselves seemed to shift, changing the paths, leading the hunters away from him and sheltering him from the searching eyes. The flames had died, but there was a warmth beneath his skin that persisted even when the chilly fall evenings had settled in around him, and he knew that they were still there. Waiting. Watching. And he hated it._

_In the end it had been his mother who had found him, the trees bowing to her need and he had frozen, waiting for the anger. The hatred. Instead she had gathered him close, smiling down at him, eyes alight with some strange emotion that he hadn’t recognised at the time and he’d fallen against her, sobbing and apologising, pleading for forgiveness. He hadn’t fought when she’d carried him home, blind to the looks that had followed them, and to the reverent way she soothed his hair away from his face as she cleaned him up and tucked him into bed._

_The next few days were strange. He’d apologised and apologised, but his words were met with odd looks and smiles from his parents and frightened glances from his brother who would leave the room if he appeared. Then there were the visitors. Their village was small, and it wasn’t uncommon to have people come around to borrow a tool, or share excess crops, but there was a steady stream of visitors over those days, who came empty-handed and whilst they chatted with his parents, their eyes never seemed to leave him. He didn’t understand, but he knew that he hated it, shrinking away from their gazes, staring at the floor to avoid meeting their eyes and trying to slip away at every opportunity._

   Molly scowled at the soft-spoken words. It had always been oddly endearing to him just how shy and awkward Caleb could be in social situations, and there had even been times when he had played on it. However, he had always stopped short of pushing too far and he was always happy to draw attention from the wizard, using his colourful appearance and outgoing nature to shield his partner, even before they had been more than teammates. How could his own parents not have seen what was happening? How could they have left Caleb to face those eyes?  He wasn’t aware that he was snarling, until Caleb squeezed his fingers, his reaction reaching the wizard even through the haze of the spell, and the tender care even with what Caleb was enduring calmed him more than words could have, and he squeezed back, tail looping back to curl against Caleb’s leg.

_It was a week after those first flames that he’d finally been told what was going on. Callum still refused to come near him, but more than once he had caught his brother watching from a safe distance, arm still swaddled in bandages and a dark expression twisting his face. Yet he hadn’t been scolded once, apart from being told not to go running off again, and it was his mother who had finally sat him down and explained, a strange expression on her face as she spoke._

_He had magic, the only one in the village to have been granted that ability by the Gods for three generations and not only that but he had been blessed with fire magic. Her voice was reverent, proud…as though he hadn’t used those flames against his own brother, as though it was something he should be celebrating. He had been numb as she continued, her words washing over him as she spoke about what this meant for him and their family…for the village…only coming out of his shock when she told him that tomorrow he was expected to show everyone his magic. He’d refused, shaking his head, trembling as he remembered how the flames had danced harmlessly against his skin and how his brother had cried out._

_“I don’t want this magic…” The words had fallen in a stunned silence, and then she had laughed, but it wasn’t the warm, joyous laugh he had grown up with, but one full of some meaning he didn’t understand and there had hand had been on his cheek, cradling it as though it was a precious gem._

_“You will.”_

_*_

_He’d pleaded and wept, but his words had fallen on deaf ears and the next day he had found himself in the grassy area at the centre of the village, staring wide-eyed at the bonfire waiting to be lit, and feeling the eyes boring into him from all directions. The whole village was there, even Callum had come, although he was careful to maintain a safe distance, never meeting Caleb’s eyes when he looked to him for reassurance. Callum had always been the brave one, moving to shelter his younger brother whenever he was afraid, promising to always be there…and Caleb hated the flames even more as he stood there in the open, alone, trembling from head to foot even as the unnatural warmth spread under his skin, pleading for release._

_“Light it,” his mother ordered, and there was ice in her words that he hadn’t heard before as she pushed him forwards. He felt numb as the crowd whispered, her words beginning to spread and be repeated as stood frozen, terror holding him in place. It became a chant, spreading from person to person until it felt like the whole world was screaming at him._

_Light it. Light it. Light it._

_The words burrowed under his skin, finding the pooling heat of his magic and stirring it to life even as he fought to hold it in. The fire roared to life in his chest, and this time it hurt, the flames dancing through his veins and leaving a burning pain in their wake as the chant reached a crescendo and he screamed, a raw, broken cry of pain as the magic burst free. There was heat on his skin now, sparks filling his vision and he was dimly aware of cheering around him, the bonfire now ablaze before he fell, and the darkness claimed him._

_And how he wished the darkness had taken him for good._

“It didn’t s-stop there,” Caleb whispered, and his grip on Molly’s hand was bordering on painful now, the emotions too much to be held at bay by the charm. “It didn’t matter that I was scared, that I hated the flames that had come between me and my brother… the village didn’t care about that. My parents…” He caught himself, but not before Molly caught the anguish in those two words and it did little for the anger rising in his chest. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard of people being used for their magic, they’d had people come to the circus fleeing such things, but it was a hundred times worse hearing it in Caleb’s soft voice, and he pulled his partner closer, making no move to free his hand from the bruising grip. “I hated it, but we needed fire. Fire was the only thing that stood between us and the winter, it fuelled the ovens and forges…it p-protected us.”

_Protected us…_

    Molly felt a chill creep down his spine as Caleb’s voice shook and broke, absorbing the tremor that followed with a soft growl. He could understand the need for fire, even if every part of him wished that he could have protected Caleb from that, from being forced to use something that had frightened him so much. But that last bit… _they wouldn’t._  He wanted to deny the thought creeping into the back of his mind, wanted to forget how days after they’d fought the bandits on the road to Zadash he’d found Caleb on his knees in the hallway, trembling, eyes unfocused as he sobbed and heaved. How he’d apologised for what he had done, pleading with Molly to understand why he’d done what he’d done, trying to convince him that he had just been protecting them… as though he hadn’t known it…and how as just before exhaustion had pulled him under, Caleb had whispered in a broken voice that ‘he hadn’t wanted to be that man’ again.

Maybe he was wrong.

He prayed that he was wrong.

“Caleb…do you want to stop?” He already knew the answer, already knew that Caleb wasn’t going to stop now, but he had to ask, heart aching as the stubborn wizard shook his head, the bruising grip not letting up in the slightest. “What…” He doesn’t want to ask, doesn’t want to know the answer, but Caleb is stiff now in his arms, not willing to stop, but needing more than the haze of the charm to encourage him to continue and there is bile in his mouth as he finished. “Was it protecting you from?”

“Bandits…creatures that wandered in from the forest,” Caleb murmured, his voice steadier than it had been but distant, as though he was caught in a different time and Molly was glad for the pain of his grip, as it told him that the wizard was still there with him.  “We were isolated, and the local garrison didn’t consider us at risk and there was little in the way of weapons beyond farming tools and logging axes. The village had been hit hard the year before I was born, I played in the ruins of some of the houses that had been destroyed…and there was the odd attack as I was growing up, and we always ran and hid, and prayed.”

“And that changed…?”

   Caleb nodded, an odd jerky motion that didn’t hide the tremor that went through him and his mouth opened and closed several times, the words fighting against him. “Tell me,” Molly tasted blood again, biting his lip as he forced the words out, feeling Caleb jerk before leaning into him again, the charm binding him once more and Caleb relaxed a little as he felt it paving the way for his words.

“Not straight away,” Caleb replied obediently. “For a long time, my flames were just used in the colder months and in the forges, and it was easy sometimes to pretend that it was a good thing. I was helping…my parents were happy, the village was happy…and as long as I made fire, they saw me in a way that Callum refused to anymore.” Caleb fell silent again, and for the first time since he’d begun his grip loosened and Molly waited, sensing that he was going to continue his own, feeling the charm maintaining it’s hold with ease and after a moment or two he was rewarded. “Then the bandits came…”

_Caleb gripped the book he had been given, staring down at it with wide-eyes, before looking back up at the priest. When he wasn’t helping around the village, he was sent to study with the old man who had been the village priest for as long as anyone could remember, he had no magic of his own, but he had spent time at the Academy and he knew more about the arcane than anyone for miles around. It had been his tutelage that had allowed Caleb to gain more control over his flames, to change their properties as he needed, to bend them to his whim and now…_

_“You’re going to teach me other spells?” He asked, not sure how he felt about that. He still didn’t like his magic, hating the distance it had put between him and his brother, the empty praise it earned him and the unwarranted reverence that he was greeted with. Yet, on the other hand it was something that belonged to him, that was untouched by everything else around him, and he loved to read and learn, to test his memory and his fingers tightened on the book._

_His book…_

_“There is more than this village, Caleb. One day you will see it, and fire alone won’t be enough to keep you safe.”_

_“But…” Whatever else he had been about to say was lost as there were screams in the distance, followed by the frantic ringing of the warning bell in the centre of the village and Caleb froze, terror gripping him at the noise he had only heard twice before. Once for bandits, and a second time for a wild boar that had charged through the village. He was barely aware of the Priest grabbing his hand, pulling him towards his cottage, but they had just reached the doorway when there were other hands on him, pulling him back and the book fell to the ground as he found himself caught between them. There were frantic words, and if he had paid attention he might have caught the fear and anger in his teacher’s voice, but instead he was caught by surprise as he found himself being pulled away, back towards the centre of the village…towards the danger he realised, hearing the screams growing closer and louder, watching as one cottage burst into flames and he came alive, fighting to get free._

_“We need to hide!” They always hid. He remembered cowering in the attic with Callum last time, trembling, his mouth stuffed with his brother’s cuff to keep him silent as they waited to see if they would be discovered, if their parents would come back._

_“Not this time.” It was Jacob the village chief that was holding him he realised as he came back to himself, and he shrank back. There had always been something about the man that unnerved him, and this close that feeling crawled under his skin, and his breath sped up as brown eyes focused on him, looking to him for something he wasn’t sure he was ready to give. “It’s time to show us what that magic of yours can really do.”_

    Caleb was trembling in his arms, his grip vice like once more and Molly closed his eyes, trying desperately to fight off the mental image of a tiny auburn-headed child doing the same. Fire. Fire was one of the best defences, even as young as he was Molly knew that, remembering the times the carnival had built up barriers of flame around them when they’d come under attack on the road. It scared creatures and made humans hesitate, and if you used it right it could be a weapon and a defence all at once.

_And he was a child…_

“Caleb,” he murmured, hesitating for a moment before letting the charm loosen a little, refusing to force this answer, even if Caleb is mad at him later. “How old?”

“What…?” Caleb still sounds dazed, the charm still at work, but Molly has a feeling that its more to do with the memories that he’s sharing, remembering how he’d felt that night under the cone of truth and there’s bile in his mouth again. It had taken him a while to forgive Jester for that, would Caleb feel the same even though he had asked for this?

“How old were you then? How old were you…”  The words creep out, that question plaguing his thoughts and this time it’s Molly’s turn to falter, because he’s not sure that he wants to know the answer or that Caleb is ready to tell him. But they’ve already come this far, teetering on a precipice and his voice is little more than a whisper as he forces himself to finish the question and to keep his control over Caleb from wavering. “When they asked you to kill someone?” There’s a roaring in his ears, a fury building in his chest that scares him and he wants to be wrong…he wants Caleb to laugh and tell him it wasn’t anything like that, but he can’t forget Caleb broken and shaking in the aftermath of using his flames on someone. He can’t forget the unspoken, _‘please don’t hate me’_ from before he’d used his charm…and he can’t shake the icy certainty that he’s right from gripping him as Caleb goes still in his arms.

_All Caleb can hear beyond the strange, rushing sound in his ears is the screams of terror and the shouts of strange, rough voices, their accent marking them as outsiders. Strangers. Bandits. He wants to turn and run, to find his family and hide from what is coming. He wants to be the same as any other child in the village, hidden away safe and not standing out in the open, undefended, alone, with an arrow aimed at his back and the order to use his flames ringing in his head._

_He hates his flames._

_He hates the magic beneath his skin._

_He hates the village._

_The heat surges beneath his skin, fire dancing through his veins. They’re hungry, waiting to be unleashed, but willing for now to listen to his command and he stills at that realisation. They’re his to command… he’s known it for a while, that’s been the whole point of his training after all, but it’s the first time he’s truly believed it. Truly felt it, and there’s a surge of something new…hope, maybe? Relief, that he really does have something that is his and his alone? Still, its short-lived as there’s a shout and frightened blue eyes dart to the Bandit that’s emerged between one of the houses, and he freezes as he stares at the shortsword in one arm and the dagger in the other, a hungry, wolfish grin spreading across the man’s face, twisting it into something wild and inhuman and he stumbles back._

_“No…” His prayers and pleas haven’t been heard for a very long time, and he’s numb as the Bandit charges towards them, shouts from behind him ordering him to use his magic. There are tears on his cheeks, as he finds the strength to lift trembling hands, feeling his magic jumping with anticipation, fire searing through his veins, coalescing into flames that dance on his fingers. They’re hungry, fighting to be free and…_

     There are tears on his cheeks as he trails off, eyes staring off into the distance, only vaguely aware of Molly sat behind him, leaning into him, whispering frantic words in his ears. His partner’s question resonates through the charm still wrapped around him, and he shudders, seeing that day in his mind with perfect clarity… seeing the boy he had been releasing his hold on the flames, crying out as they rushed forward and engulfed the bandit…

_Flames dancing around a blackened skull…_

“I…” His voice catches, shoulders hunching as he tries to hide from his own words, from the memories and from the knowledge that there is no way Molly will ever look at him the same after this. “I-I was nine.”


End file.
